


Only Just a Flame

by puffloom



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Honestly y'all I don't know diddles about anime but I do love me some Ghibli, Howl's Moving Castle AU, M/M, additionally I have not decided how pg-13+ this will be so to speak, forgive me mars, the movie not the book, uuuh also there's swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:30:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffloom/pseuds/puffloom
Summary: After being cursed by a sorcerer, Jonas sets off to find help from renegade spellcaster Mitchell Mueller. This is a Howl's Moving Castle AU





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> THIS is my first attempt at fanfiction. I am trying to stay true to the incredible characters created by MARS, but boy howdy folks my experience level is minimal so y'all can let me know if my shit needs fixing
> 
> Big big big thank you to abkvs and torkz for reading these first few chapters and giving me some super rad comments and encouragement. I aspire to get on your level. Also s/o of course as always to Mars for creating some good ass content
> 
> I have no fucking idea how to name stuff? So the title is from Beirut's A Candle's Fire.
> 
> These first few chapters stay pretty close to the movie, but the story is definitely going to branch off in a different direction. I hope you like it!

Jonas Wagner stared out of his small window for the hundredth time that day, resting his chin on his hand and his elbow on another pile of papers. He stared blankly over the city-state, with its busy crowds of shoppers and workers dressed in bright colors, to the mountains beyond, to the clouds that always bordered the Wastelands. He could map the place where the urban turned rural, where the buildings became homesteads, overrun with sheep and cultivated land. A change in the fast-moving clouds caught his eye, and before his attention was diverted he thought he saw a dark shape just behind the mist.

The distraction came in the form of Lewis, another desk jockey. They both worked as paper pushers at the law enforcement center, dealing with the written accounts of open and closed cases. Jonas didn’t love his job—he not only had to read about some very unsettling crimes, but also about numerous cases of mistaken identity and unnecessary brutality on the part of the guards. The unfortunate thing was his foster father, Dean, had gotten him this job, and Jonas had spent most of his life trying not to do anything that would upset Dean. Quitting did not seem like an option, but a person could dream.

Lewis disrupted Jonas’s thoughts by waving a folder perilously close to his nose.

“Jonas! You would not _believe_ this new file that came in! Look!”

He threw the folder onto Jonas’s desk, disturbing the papers from the orderly stacks Jonas tried to keep them in. He opened the file and thumbed through it. There were all kinds of clippings and official papers included, but a cut-out newspaper headline, dated from today, leapt out at him.

_REGENT’S DAUGHTER MISSING_ , it read. He began to skim the piece, details of the incident sliding past his eyes, only absorbing a few words. The woman pictured was strikingly beautiful, with long hair and warm dark eyes, and a large, friendly smile. The piece itself was mostly bombast about how the powerful regent would recover her soon, but the piece concluded with a call for citizens to keep their eyes out for suspects, notably one Mitchell Mueller, a spellcaster known for his tendency to skirt the outside lines of rules and ignore governmental decrees. What did he have to do with the regent’s daughter? Jonas wondered about this for a brief second before turning back to Lewis.

 “Wow, that’s horrible. What’s happening downstairs?”

Lewis’s eyes widened as he responded, “Everyone’s running around down there! It’s chaos!” Then, he leaned in towards Joey, saying, “I doubt they’ll notice if we take that lunch break a little early, right? I’d love to get out of this stinkhole.”

The idea of a whole crowd of people shouting and running made Jonas’s head spin. They likely wouldn’t notice his absence, and if they did he could make up the time by just skipping his lunch break tomorrow. Dean might even say that it would be a good thing.

“Probably not, Lewis. Let’s go.”

They packed up their meager belongings and took the back exit, down the frequently unused stairs leading to the alleys behind the building. There was a light breeze, and it stirred the loose curls around Jonas’s face, picking up a few leaves and bits of paper from the ground in front of them. Jonas walked alongside Lewis, who was talking animatedly about his primary interest, something about a possible breakthrough in alchemical studies, which Lewis was deeply invested in. Lewis was so immersed that he wouldn’t have noticed if Jonas had dropped to the ground and started barking like a dog, so he knew he could zone out safely without fear of hurting his companion.

His thoughts wandered back to the Regent’s daughter. Carmen, that was her name. He had been in the same school as her, although she was accompanied by an entourage of friends and at least one guard at all times. He had never talked to her, although he thought almost every boy in his level had wanted to.

They reached the end of the alley, which forked off in a few different directions. Lewis turned to Jonas to finish his lecture, and Jonas tried to pay attention and give off the proper cues. Once Lewis wrapped it up, he pointed off in one direction.

“I’m heading this way, Jo. I’m meeting up with Maddy.” Here, he wiggled his eyebrows, and blushed a little. “I’m working my way up to asking her on a date! Right now, it’s just us and some friends, if you want to come to lunch.”

Jonas smiled, but refused, coming up with the first valid excuse that he could. He didn’t want to see Maddy, who always seemed a little too comfortable with him, or listen to more alchemical equations.

“Thanks Lewis, but I’m headed to see Sid at the bakery. I’m sure she’ll have something to say about all this hubbub, and I haven’t had a lunch with her in ages.”

“Fair enough, see you back at work!”

Jonas turned down the alley to the west and began to walk, feeling his stomach grumble in anticipation of the mouthwatering lunch he would find at the bakery.

Lost in his thoughts of aromatic breads, he didn’t notice the guard stepping out from the shadow of a doorway.

“Hey _Fag_ ner, off to your third lunch?”

Jonas jumped and spun, recognizing Braxton Chase, one of Dean’s favorites at the station. Braxton had a high arrest rate and an even higher rate of brutality accusations. Jonas suspected that the reason so many of these were dropped so quickly was a mix of the Chase family’s clout, huge stores of gold, and tendency towards employing violence as a method of persuasion.

“Oh, uh...hi Braxton, I was, um...”

Braxton narrowed his eyes and smirked, taking another step towards Jonas. Jonas tried to inch back but found himself against a wall. Why did he think it was smart to walk alone?

“Well, if you need something to put in your mouth, I’m sure I have something here that would—“

Suddenly, Braxton snapped to attention, unnatural and puppet-like. The suggestive sneer that had been on his lips a second before was now a look of shock. Jonas felt a heavy arm drop around his shoulders.

“Oh look, it’s the pond scum. Don’t you have somewhere to be, you slimy green fuck?”

Jonas was too shocked to turn and look at the tall presence next to him, standing close enough to feel protective. A large hand came up and flicked carelessly, Braxton spun mechanically on his heel and marched, legs pulled by an occult force. He walked in a painfully straight line, colliding hard with the brick wall of the alley with a cracking sound. The impact seemed to release him from the spell, and he clasped his nose and ran, casting back an angry and terrified look at the figures left in the alleyway.

Jonas’s muscles were knotted tight. He risked a glimpse at the figure next to him, the arm still slung around his shoulders. He caught a whiff of tobacco and looked up into the profile of a very tall, sneering man. The man looked down and his eyes narrowed. He had a raspy voice, and he lowered it for a minute as he began to talk again.

“Hey, take a walk with me. I ain't gonna hurt ya, but we need to get outta here. We’re being followed.”

He kept his arm where it was, and turned them both down the alley, continuing off down an unfamiliar passage at a clip that was just slow enough for Jonas to keep up.

Finally, his voice found him again. “Who...? I—, I—don’t, I just want, want to see my sister.”

The man above him grinned, the corners of his mouth curling and his row of teeth glinting in the rays of midday sun slanting between the buildings.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll get ya where ya need to go. Just fuckin' trust me for a minute.”

They turned again, and Jonas, whose sense of direction was usually sound, was getting lost in the maze of streets. He heard a sound behind them, a wet sound, a sound like the kick of air when an almost empty shampoo bottle is squeezed. He turned his head just slightly and saw a dark amorphous blob, like slime, squeeze out of the wall. If possible, his spine got straighter, and a thrill of fear ran down his body. The man next to him felt it, and though he kept his eyes ahead, he said, “I’ve got you. Just don’t look back.” He made a complicated sign with his hand, and the gooey sound seemed to play in reverse. Jonas stared to the front, not daring to look anywhere else. The man turned one more time and they were met with the end of an alleyway.

“Fucking shit,” the tall man grunted, and spun them around. The alley started to fill with the blobs Jonas had seen before. They began as shapeless things, emerging from the walls of buildings, spreading slowly across the ground, but as they moved arms, legs, and mouths began to appear, sprouting out of the blobs and becoming vaguely more humanoid as they advanced on the men in the alley.

Jonas found himself standing closer to the figure next to him, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Last fuckin' thing I need,” muttered his companion, staring at the shapes for one long second before removing his arm from Jonas’s shoulder. He felt the shock of loss, of abandonment, and for one brief minute feared he would be left behind, but he almost immediately felt both large hands reposition themselves near his waist at his hips, one on each side of the soft bulge of his stomach. Jonas was too frightened to feel the embarrassment he normally would have when anyone touched him, so instead he followed the instruction of the low whisper that came next.

“Close your eyes.” Jonas did, and felt the world shift underneath him. “Alright, start walking. One foot at at time. You know how to do that shit.” Jonas did in fact know how to do that shit, so he began moving his legs, eyes still squeezed shut. He felt the slightest resistance, like he was treading water. He opened his eyes and found they were walking above the roofs, supported by nothing. Each step made them glide through the air, their legs synchronizing to push off at the same time. To his surprise, Jonas laughed, a wild laugh, a mix of adrenaline, nerves, confusion, and exhilaration. He looked at the figure next to him, hands holding him securely. He caught the eyes of the man for a brief second, and they grinned at each other.

“Not so bad, huh?”

“Actually,” Jonas replied, “this is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me.” But he couldn’t stop smiling from his heady mix of emotions, and he decided simply to continue to trust this stranger. Honestly, there wasn’t much else he could do.

They walked through the air for another minute, Jonas marveling at the city below him, too terrified to be scared. They descended past a rooftop after a minute, landing on the ground, and the man released him and looked down.

“Where to?”

This was the first time Jonas got to look at his rescuer. He was lean and muscular, with a long face and dark brown hair in a surprisingly neat undercut. His eyes turned down at the corners, and he had strong, winging brows. He was wearing a jacket over a very casual outfit. He was not a particularly good looking man, but Jonas felt like he was _safe_ , and that’s all he wanted at the moment. He missed the protective arm around him.

Jonas took a second to come back to himself, before he remembered he was on the way to the bakery. He had been staring at the tall man. Once he realized, he flushed and quickly responded, “Just the town square, please.”

The figure had been returning his gaze, leaning against an alley wall. His look had changed in a way that Jonas didn’t quite understand as Jonas had been staring at him, and his next words came out slightly raspier.

“That easy?” He chuckled, and pointed at the exit of the alleyway they had sunk into. “Just a few steps in that direction. Can’t miss it. And don’t worry about the henchmen. I’ll keep 'em away.” The figure pushed off the wall and made a small, sardonic bow in Jonas’s direction before turning and setting off at a quick clip down the alley, disappearing from sight.

Jonas stood for a minute, blinking. His brain couldn’t process what had just happened, but his heart wouldn’t stop beating fast. He needed to tell Sidney. He headed in the direction the man had pointed, hoping she’d believe him.


	2. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Sid and also our villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of violence in this one, no blood though.  
> Thanks again to abkvs and torkz for their help!

Jonas stumbled into the bakery, realizing he was walking faster than he had intended. He was hit with the heavenly aromas of fresh bread and other delicacies. When he saw his twin sister, he visibly relaxed, although he still felt like a guitar string that wouldn’t stop vibrating.

Sidney was leaning over the counter, frantically trying to fill orders from the large group of people surrounding her. Sidney was popular for many reasons, among them her willingness to listen to anyone who came through her bakery, and her incredible bread.

“JO!” she shouted above the noise. “I’ll be there in a sec!”

Jonas went into the back room to wait for her as she got some help at the counter and made her way back. She was the spitting image of Jonas himself, with dark, loose curls, green eyes that bordered on hazel, dark skin, and a constellation of freckles that covered every patch of available skin. At the moment, she had a smudge of flour on her cheek, which she worsened by absently rubbing her hand over it. She met Jonas’s eyes and paused.

“Jojo? What’s up, bro?” She frowned, the skin on her forehead wrinkling as she took in her brother’s distressed face.

“Uh, Sid? Is there anywhere we can talk in private?”

“Of course. C’mon.” She took his arm and led him up a set of stairs to the part of the building above the bakery. It seemed to be mostly abandoned rooms, but had a balcony they could trust not to be bothered on.

“Ok, talk to me.” Sidney kept a hold on his arm as if to reassure him.

Jonas told her an outline of the last hour, starting with the missing regent’s daughter and leading up to his arrival at the bakery. He avoided telling her the specifics of the heckling by Braxton, only saying that someone had been bothering him and another man stepped in. When he got to the part about the spellcaster, she made him repeat himself.

“What did he look like, Jo?”

“I—I don’t really know.” That wasn’t true. He still remembered the ghost of his hands on his waist. “Well, I mean, he was really tall, and, um, he had, uh, really big teeth—”

“Really? That’s the best you can do? Honestly sometimes li’l bro, you are useless. That sounds like pretty powerful magic though. Maybe he was one of the regent’s magicians?”

“I doubt it Sid. Why would one of them help me?” Although, he thought, why would anyone have helped him? Even if he wanted to rescue Jonas, the man could have gotten rid of Braxton and left. Why involve him in magic?

Sidney did not voice it, but Jonas knew she was thinking the same thing.

“Jo, I hope you haven’t been dragged into some sort of situation. This seems like business neither you nor I should be mixed up in.”

“Tell me about it. I’m pretty shaken up.”

Sidney looked at him. He looked rattled, with his hair all over the place and a slightly dazed look on his face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bun she had snuck out for him.

Jonas looked infinitely grateful, taking the bread from her and putting his head on her shoulder.

“I guess I’ll just...go back to normal?”

“I guess so, bro. I don’t know what other option you have. And you know you can always give me a shout. Come on, I’ll get you some lunch.” She wrapped her brother in a big hug, and they went back downstairs together.

 

\---

 

When Jonas returned to work, he felt a lot better. He had eaten a nice meal with his sister, who, knowing he could use a distraction, had chatted blithely about her customers and various mishaps at the bakery. He walked back afterwards on the main roads, bustling with people heading off to lunch or returning to work. Normally he avoided crowds, but at that moment it felt safe. As he walked through the front doors of the law enforcement center, he saw that the panic had died down. Presumably someone had stepped in and organized everyone. Presumably that someone was Dean, who could intimidate most people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do.

Jonas returned to the second floor, with his small, neat desk by the window. He was dismayed to find a huge stack of papers waiting for him, and settled in for a busy but mindless afternoon.

He wrapped up pretty late in the evening, and was too tired to worry too much about anything, although he was extra wary of the shadows as he walked home. He got to the apartment complex that Dean and his wife Sue owned. They lived in the large room on the bottom floor with some of the younger children that they fostered. Jonas had managed to convince them to let him move to the second floor, into one of the apartments for let. He paid a fairly regular price for the apartment and valued this small degree of freedom. Sidney had done better, talking them into letting her rent a room near the bakery, but she had always been better at getting her own way.

Jonas climbed the stairs, wishing he could turn on the light without bothering the people below, and unlocked his apartment. His room was modest but comfortable. Sue had decorated the room, as she had done with all the rooms in the building, so it looked like something enchanted woodland animals would have put together if they were making something for a princess. The wood was in shades of forest green, with pink and yellow details. Glass front cabinets with rows of china abounded. Even the lights looked like little flower buds. Jonas thought it was quaint, and didn’t bother to change it. Anyways, there was also a large, very green, very comfortable couch which he not only tolerated, but enjoyed immensely. It was on this that he flopped down, pulling one of the pastel colored pillows onto his lap, and closed his eyes. For some reason, he started thinking of his protector again.

A loud sound startled him, and his eyes flew open. Standing in his doorway with a vicious sneer was a blond man. He was of medium height, but he was wearing the most expensive clothing Jonas had ever seen, and he was surveying the room like it was something putrid he had been asked to eat.

Jonas leapt to his feet, stammering, “How—how are you in here? I know I locked the door. Please get out.” For a brief moment he felt extremely glad he hadn’t put on his pajamas, before he remembered that he had bigger concerns.

Belatedly, he realized that he knew this man’s face. This was Neil Beckham, the regent’s head sorcerer. He was widely disliked, for he usually “resolved” disputes or other problems with a heavy hand, unconcerned with casualties or damage.

Neil approached Jonas and stood close.

“Listen, you pathetic waste, I can go _anywhere_ I like. Including here. Now tell me, what do you know about his whereabouts?”

Jonas’s fear battled with his confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t play games with me, pork chop. Where is Mueller?”

Jonas felt a creeping fear up his spine.

“I don’t know what you mean. Why would I know that?”

Neil took a step back and sighed. “As you surely know, assuming you’re literate, the regent’s daughter has been stolen. We want her back. We have every reason to believe renegade warlock Mitchell Mueller is behind this attack. He’s been scheming against the state for years. You were seen with him just today by countless witnesses. It is not only unwise, but downright treasonous, for you to withhold information from me.”

“What? I don’t know anything about that! I had a strange encounter with a magician today, he told me nothing, and then he left me in the town square. I have no information to give you. Now please leave my house.”

“Ugh. Don’t play me for a fool. But if you’d like to do this the hard way, that’s fine by me.” His eyes lit up and he moved his hand through the air. Jonas felt a sudden, shooting pain in his knees, and collapsed to the ground, unable to support himself.

“Let me ask again. Where is he?”

“Why—would—I—know?” Jonas managed through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, wrong answer. A little harder then?” Suddenly, a new pain started, immediately behind his eyes, shattering his consciousness. Jonas didn’t know how long it lasted, couldn’t think, could hardly breathe. He curled up on the ground and waited, unable to move. After an indeterminate amount of time, the pain ceased. Jonas came back to himself. He had been sobbing.

He sat up, and looked at the shoes of the man in front of him. He could hear the smirk in Neil’s voice when he next spoke.

“I didn’t realize you would cry so much. That was even better than expected. Now, where is he?”

“I _don’t know_ ,” Jonas said again, trying to steady his breathing. He looked up into Neil’s face. Neil stared impassively down at him. Then he sighed again.

“Honestly, you aren’t even worth my time.”

He looked pensive for a second, and added, “Although, if you’re not going to assist us willingly, perhaps you could be our involuntary messenger.” He twisted his hands again, performing a complicated sign in the air.

Jonas cowered, waiting for the pain, but it did not come.

“I’m willing to consider reversing your curse if you can bring us Mueller,” Neil said. “But I should warn you: you won’t be able to tell anyone about it.”

He turned and walked to the exit.

“Tell Mueller I’m coming for him.” He opened the door and left silently, without looking back.


	3. The Wastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we visit the wasteland and get cozy in Mitch's house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think of this chapter as the chapter where I use sleeping as a transition for every fucking scene so apologies for that
> 
> Again, endless appreciation to abkvs and torkz for reading over this one for me. Y'all are rockstars

Jonas sat for a minute, staring straight ahead at the closed door. He could see that the lock was secure, meaning it had been fastened the whole time. It seemed surreal, but the incident was too vivid to have just been a nightmare.

“I _hate_ wizards,” he said aloud, and moved to stand up. He put his hand down on the ground to steady himself. Or at least he thought he did. He saw nothing.

He moved his hand to his face. He knew he did, but nothing happened. There was no hand in front of his face. He lifted his other hand, or at least moved his muscles in a way that would normally lift his hand. There was a soft sound as his two hands met. He was...invisible? He scrambled to his feet, and walked unsteadily on aching knees to one of the cabinets. He opened the door. The door opened. However, he couldn’t see his own hand opening it. He thought, somewhat hysterically, that he might be a ghost. He walked, slowly, trying to retain some shred of sanity, over to the bathroom to peer in the mirror.

Nothing. Not even an outline. Except wait, he could see a light, roughly at his chest level, something that looked like a floating flame, flickering. He tried to poke it, realizing it was directly over his heart. Well, he supposed, curses were meant to be dramatic, although he didn’t imagine his would be quite so cliché. He reached out and turned off the light, and the flame became more apparent. As he stared, he saw that his own silhouette was also glowing slightly, just outlining his form. He looked down at his hands, and could see the borders of them, sketched out in a reddish orange. He switched the light back on.

“Ok Jonas,” he said. “What are the positives?”

He supposed that he would never be sucked into an unwanted conversation again, so there was that. He wouldn’t have to be so self-conscious about his body. Also, if he wanted to get naked, he could get naked. Anywhere. Who would notice?

“That’s it, I’m losing my mind.” He trundled off to his bed and slumped down onto it. What was he going to do?

What was it Neil had said? That he could reverse the curse if Jonas found the spellcaster? It seemed like his best bet.

Jonas began to pack. He had heard tales of a house on chicken legs that carried the infamous Mitchell Mueller through the fog of the Wastelands. Well, it was a start. Jonas would try to find it.

Packing was an exercise in retraining his brain. It was almost better to close his eyes and do the whole thing just by touch. It was difficult for him to gauge distance, because he wasn’t ever entirely sure where his hand was in relation to the objects in front of him. At least it got easier with practice. He also figured out that if he put a shirt over his hand, he could at least know where it was.

He sighed again. He hated this. At least he wasn’t dead, he supposed.

He didn’t have much to bring, only a few clothes, and a book or two. The grumbling in his stomach from his missed dinner assured him of that. He knew Dean and Sue would wonder where he was, so he scrawled a quick note. He told them he had come down with something infectious and wouldn’t be able to come out for a few days. That gave him enough time not to worry. Then he walked over to the contraption on the wall, spinning the dials (this took quite a few tries) to Sidney’s address, and hearing her voice come over the speaker.

“Jonas? What’s going on?”

“Hey Sid, remember all that stuff with magic from earlier?” He paused, not wanting to put her in danger, and gave her the smallest amount of information possible in the situation.

“So, um, apparently now I’m wrapped up in it. Way too deep, Sid. I have to get out of here. I’m going to try to find someone who can help me.”

“Oh my God Jonas, what can I do? I’ll be right over, I’ll—”

“Absolutely not, Sid. The last thing I want is you getting involved in this as well. I already have a plan.” A plan? That was mostly a lie, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “I’ve got this. I know where to get help.” That was entirely a lie.

“Jonas. What is _happening?_ Tell me what I can do.”

“Sid. I will call you as soon as I can. I have to leave. I can’t tell you anything else. Don’t tell Dean and Sue, I left them a note saying I was sick and really contagious. That will hold them off for a bit. Trust me. Promise me you’ll trust me. Give me a few days.”

“Jo—”

“Promise me Sid. A few days.”

He could practically hear the gears in her brain whirring.

“Three days Joey. Then I’m coming for you like a bat out of hell.”

“Thank you Sid. I love you.”

Sidney started to talk again, but Jonas hung up. Calling her was a mistake, but at least he had warned her. He really intended to call her if he arrived...somewhere. He didn’t really know. He knew he couldn’t stay here. He went through the motions of getting himself ready for bed, and then closed his eyes, anticipating that sleep would be impossible.

 

\---

 

He woke up at dawn. The sun was streaming in through the window. He looked at his hand. He was completely invisible in the bright morning light.

He showered and changed, wondering why he bothered. Then he grabbed his small pack and the small amount of food he had in the house, some cheese and a loaf of bread from his sister’s bakery. He also picked up the note he had written and left his house, locking the door behind him. He slid the note under Dean and Sue’s door on his way out.

He began to walk, careful to avoid the early risers that were moving busily around on the streets in case he bumped into them or brushed past them. No one noticed him. He was trying to figure out what he was doing when he saw the milkman’s truck coming from around the corner. He figured that the truck would end up back on the outskirts of the city. He was just heading to the Wastes, direction undetermined. Whatever this milk cart’s direction was, it was as good a bet as any. When the automobile came to a stop at a house near him, he climbed into the back, far away from the easily available bottles the man would unload. The truck had a flat bed behind the cabin, and open sides. There was a little awning over the bed. Jonas was glad he could look around as they moved. He sat back and settled in for a long journey.

A bumpy few hours later, the truck rolled to a complete stop, and Jonas woke with a jolt. His ability to fall asleep anywhere was a blessing and a curse. Although, he thought, in terms of curses, he had a slightly bigger one to deal with right now.

He climbed over the side of the truck as the milkman unloaded his wares from the back. He moved a distance from the farmhouse they were next to, looking around. He was met with a bucolic scene, the buildings of the city in the distance behind him. There were green pastures and various farm animals in enclosures, but what drew his eye were the mountains of the Wastelands ahead of him.

They rolled with ominous fog, even in the morning light. Or perhaps Jonas simply felt they were ominous. They were just clouds, he reminded himself. He set off towards the low peaks, following a road that became increasingly less defined, the tracks of automobiles and carts did not pass this way often. The Wastelands were harsh and dangerous, and most of the trade done with his city-state was done by air. He felt utterly, increasingly alone as he walked. He also wished he knew where he was going. He walked all day, stopping to eat and rest a few times before getting back on the trail. It was thoroughly exhausting, and he wished for some help. Dusk fell early on the Wastes, and he feared the loss of light. As the sun descended, the wind picked up, and he shivered. He turned to watch the light disappear, a striking sunset behind him. The lights of the city began to twinkle, and Jonas allowed himself a moment to think of Sidney. He hoped she wasn’t worrying too much about him. He knew she was.

“Enough of that,” he said aloud to himself. “I’d better keep moving. It’s too cold to sit here moping. I wish I could find this house.” He mourned the increasing lost of his sanity, walking and muttering to himself. Oh well, he was halfway there already. Might as well make the most of it.

“Mitchell? Mitchell Mueller? Where are you, and where’s your big stupid house?”

He waited a moment, and hearing nothing, regretted his folly.

“Pull yourself together, dummy,” he said to himself under his breath, and continued walking deeper into the mountains. He realized that he could still see the ground in front of him, and noticed that he was giving off the smallest amount of light, just enough to travel by. Well, at least there was one good thing about this curse. He was his own flashlight.

Suddenly, he heard a sound. It was a large sound, but distant. A sort of beat, separated by about a half of a second. He stopped, unsure of what to do. The beat got louder, and a shape crested a ridge in front of him. It was an awkward structure, on two massive feet, like some sort of crazy giant ostrich with the body of very run down house. He realized the beat came from the giant clawed feet hitting the ground. The house continued to approach.

Jonas was frozen. The house arrived and lowered itself onto its haunches, putting the door about three feet above the ground. There was a step, with a rail, that Jonas could grab onto if he wanted.

“That’s incredible,” he breathed. The house lowered itself a few more inches.

“You can hear me? You know where I am?” he asked, and the building shifted slightly back and forth on its feet. And he had called it dumb?

“Oh, I’m sorry I called you stupid!" he said truthfully. "You're really amazing!” 

The house, seemingly satisfied with this, plopped down onto the ground, the knees sticking up wildly.

“Do I go in?”

The house didn’t react. Maybe that was too foolish of a question. He approached the step, grabbed the rail, and entered.

He opened the door and was hit with a smell. It was a pungent mixture, the smell of old clothes, food, sweat, dirt, tobacco, and any number of other substances. Jonas balked in the doorway. The house was interestingly shaped, it had a second floor, and odd rooms that seemed to have been added on somewhat willy-nilly, and the whole thing was covered with garbage.

“Freaking disgusting,” he said, and quickly amended, “the mess, not the house!” He didn’t know if the house could hear him inside but it was doing him a favor, and he didn’t want to continue to insult it. But there was a fire in the hearth, and his legs were aching. He moved some strange rocks, at least three pairs of underwear (he tried not to think about this much) and a massive, unearthly insect frozen in a piece of amber from a chair onto some clutter on the table next to it, and pulled the chair in front of the fire.

“I’ll sit for a minute, just to rest,” he said, and promptly fell asleep.

Some time in the night, he felt the house sway and stop. He was half-conscious, and having not been invited in by the true owner of the house, chose to protect himself under cover of sleep. He heard the door open and felt a very large presence behind him, breathing heavily. The footstep was odd, not the steady beat of two feet as expected, which scared him even more. Knowing he couldn’t do anything in this state, he hoped for the best—that the creature simply couldn’t see him.

The presence passed near behind him, and he felt panting breaths, a brush of fur. Then, it moved away and climbed the stairs to the sound of hard nails on the wood.

 _I guess this is my life now_ , Jonas thought exhaustedly, and went back to sleep.


End file.
